Page 23 of The Things That Hold Us

My hand flies to my cheek, “No they're not.”

“Um, babe. They definitely are. What aren't you telling me?”

I clear my throat, “Uh, Logan texted me.”

“Logan?” her eyes pinch together in confusion. Then I watch as recognition clicks.

“Oh Logan.” she says, drawing out his name. “The guy from the bar? And the store?”

“And an hour ago.”

“An hour ago? You saw him today?”

I give her a rundown of everything. From me rushing on the side of the road with a package in my hands, to him swooping in like burly superman and saving my ass.

“Babe, why didn't you just call a cab or something?” Cassie asks.

“Yeah.. I could have, huh? Look, my brain isn't working. But the important part of the story is that Logan showed up, ran my package to the post office for me, and now has my phone number.”

“And are we mad about that? Or..”

I think about it. I’m not upset, not at all. I am kind of nervous, though. Texting leads to conversations, and then phone calls, and then hanging out. I’m not ready for any of that, No matter how tempting it all sounds with him. I’m not ready.

I shake my head, “No, I’m not upset about it. I don’t know what to feel to be completely honest.”

“Well what did he say?”

“Nothing, really. Just that my package is with the mailman. Which I already knew, but.” I shrug, and start painting another section.

Cassie just stares at me, like she's waiting for more.

“What?” I ask her.

“Are you not going to reply?” she asks.

“Oh. Uh. I don’t know. I need to think.”

“Think? About what?”

“On what to reply. Or if I even want to reply.”

“Charlie.” she says, and something in her tone makes me pause.

“It’s been over a year now. You can talk to guys.” she says, her voice almost a whisper.

“I know that.”

“Do you?”

I stop and look at her.

“I’m just not ready, ok?”

“Are we ever?”

I just shrug, not having any words to explain what’s going on in my head. But she understands. She knows.

Grief is weird.

---